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688 Words
When the car pulled away from the Bishop estate, Mrs. Bishop was inconsolable.
Chloe’s eyes were rimmed with red. There was an old saying: A married daughter is like splashed water. From this day forward, she was a guest in her own childhood home, a woman belonging to another family. She wouldn't be coming back here to live for a very long time.
"I want to bring my father home. I’m not comfortable leaving him alone at the hospital," Chloe said once her emotions had settled. She looked at Xavier, terrified that Arthur might try another assassination attempt under the cover of the night.
Xavier was leaning back against the leather seat, eyes closed as if resting. He radiated a sense of dangerous lethality even in repose. "Do whatever you want," he replied, his voice low and magnetic.
"Do you know the man from tonight?" Chloe asked, a shiver of revulsion passing through her at the memory of Marcus’s face. "Letting him go like that... won't he come back for revenge?"
"He wouldn't dare."
If Marcus had ten lives, he wouldn't dare cross Xavier Grayson again.
Xavier hadn't simply "let him go." Those two kicks had ruptured Marcus’s kidneys beyond repair. The organs would slowly fail, leading to chronic illness and uremia. Marcus was a vengeful man; the agony Xavier had inflicted on him would be redirected entirely toward Leo Bishop, the man who had set him up for this disaster.
But Xavier saw no need to explain the mechanics of his cruelty to Chloe.
"When do you plan to go to the Bishop Group?"
"No rush."
No rush? Chloe’s pulse jumped. "Then... have you thought about how to deal with Arthur?"
She needed Arthur neutralized immediately. A man blinded by greed was a wild card, and she didn't know what other insane schemes he had brewing.
Xavier finally opened his eyes and looked at her. Chloe instinctively straightened her back, her almond-shaped eyes wide and attentive, waiting for a master plan.
Instead, Xavier gave her a cool, dismissive look. "You're noisy."
Chloe went silent, biting her lip. She told herself that a man running a global empire like the Grayson Group was naturally busy. Taking over the Bishop Group’s mess was an added burden; she had to give him time.
Seeing that she had finally shut up, Xavier closed his eyes again. A faint, unfamiliar scent drifted into his personal space—something soft and subtly sweet. To his surprise, he didn't find it repulsive.
Sensing his annoyance, Chloe hugged the car door, keeping as much distance between them as the seat allowed.
The car moved swiftly through the night. About thirty minutes later, they pulled into the Grayson gates. As Chloe followed Xavier inside, the household staff looked at her with undisguised shock.
Nanny White, walking beside her, whispered an explanation. "Master Xavier never brings women home. You are the first, Madam."
The first. No wonder they looked like they’d seen a ghost.
The Grayson mansion was a titan of architecture—three stories with dozens of rooms and eight separate living areas. It was equipped with every luxury imaginable: a private cinema, a gym, trophy rooms, a KTV lounge, a massive wine cellar, and even a private golf course.
None of this particularly dazzled Chloe. She had grown up in similar opulence. She knew that true wealth wasn't found in the square footage of a house, but in the collections hidden within—a single vase or a painting could be worth more than the villa itself.
As she followed Xavier up to the second floor, a chaotic din erupted from a wing of the house. Xavier quickened his pace, and Chloe hurried to keep up.
Liam Jr. had run out of things to smash. In a final act of silent protest, he had crawled into a large wardrobe and refused to come out.
The maids were frantic, terrified he would suffocate, but they didn't dare pull him out. The "little puppy" was clutching a sharp fruit knife, and they were deathly afraid he would accidentally—or intentionally—hurt himself in his rage.
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